Hit Squad
by Swagman
Summary: Jonas is torn between Sam and a new woman.


HIT SQUAD

Jonas paused, never before had he seen such a stunning example of womanly magnificence. She was exquisite, from the top of her thick, luxuriant, lustrous, shining, mane of curly, flame-red hair, to her perfect size 5 feet. He gazed into her large, luminous, sparkling, iridescent, turquoise eyes. Her skin was like satin, glowing with the radiance of a thousand summer suns, softer than the softest flower petal. Cariandria sighed, her perfect bosom heaving. "I speak 12 languages, play 15 instruments, wrote the definitive book on Wormhole Physics, discovered a cure for AIDS, rid the world of hunger, and won the Miss Universe Contest 3 years running", she said modestly. Cariandria blushed, a delicate rose tint suffusing her smooth ivory cheeks. Gazing up at Jonas' tall, manly figure through her long, sooty lashes, she smiled, revealing a set of teeth so blindingly white as to rival Jonas' own. Jonas was charmed, the very sight of this fantastical creature, this glorious vision of matchless loveliness had banished the memories of every other woman he had ever known from his heart. Oh, there had been many other women, a handsome hunk such as Jonas naturally attracted a bevy of beauties wherever he roamed. But never, in all his travels, had he encountered such a superlative example of female pulchitrude. "Ahem" a peevish voice said. Jonas started, he had completely forgotten his companion. "Are you looking at her? Do you think SHE'S attractive" the sour, embittered voice continued. Jonas sighed. "No Sammywhammy, I don't find her attractive" he prevaricated. "I coulda been working on my motorcycle, not hanging out in this dump waiting for this Clex guy to show up," his companion, a tall blonde woman, whined. Jonas sighed again. Glancing at his companion he cursed the fickle fate that had yoked him to this female. Although the embers of their love had long since grown cold, circumstances beyond his control decreed that he must endure her presence. A lesser man would have run screaming from this harpy long ago but Jonas was a hero, nobly sacrificing himself for the greater good. 

How could he ever have been attracted to this woman? Discretely studying her looks, Jonas couldn't help but notice the limp, mousy hair, the pinched cheeks, pursed mouth, and suspicious squinty eyes. Once he had found her beautiful, but now, she seemed utterly repellent. Oddly enough, the deterioration of Sam's looks had begun immediately after the two had consummated their love. 

Sam's nagging, peevish voice continued to pollute his eardrums with her whining complaints. "Wrote the definitive book on Wormhole Physics my ass," she bitched sourly. "I suppose she thinks SHE could take my place at the SCG," she droned on mercilessly.

Jonas smiled grimly, it was a tempting thought. Daring to dream, he envisioned a happy, sunlit, wondrous future with Cariandria. At last he had found a woman worthy of his superior skills, character, intellect and looks! 

Meanwhile, at the back of the nightclub, two men were engrossed in a private conversation, oblivious to the action around them. The elder of the two was tall, lean, with a commanding air. The younger, a superb specimen of manhood, with sparking cerulean eyes, a sensuous mouth and a firmly muscled physique.

"Let's get out of here, Spacemonkey," the manly, dashing, silver-haired devil said, a roguish twinkle in his velvety, chocolate brown eyes.

"Oh Flyboy, you make me so hot when you're masterful," his companion moaned, his soft, moist, pink kissable lips parting. The young man stood, his perfect, round, pert, buttocks, clearly visible through the thin layer of tight fabric. The elder man, eyed him appreciatively, proud to be seen with such a fine example of manhood.

Sam frowned, deepening the now permanent groove that marred her once smooth brow. "How come THEY have all the fun?" she snarked.

As the two men left the club, a third man, no, not a man, a veritable Nubian god, joined them. "You got the directions to 'The Ring Of Jello" T? the suave, debonair, incredibly handsome leader asked.

Cariandria gazed after the pair, smiling sweetly, she said "not that there's anything wrong with that". As she spoke, she ran a small delicate, porcelain skin hand tipped with exquisite shell pink nails through her long silky locks. The flame-red tresses reflected the light, glowing beaconlike in the dark night club. 

A sudden silence descended upon the crowded nightclub. In the distance the proud, haughty, figure of a man could be seen. Although the man was young, his head gleamed like a burnished dome. Clad in an Armani suit of impeccable taste, he approached Jonas' table, accompanied by four bodyguards. 

Jonas stood, facing his archnemesis at last.

They faced each other, standing toe to toe, each assessing the man opposite. 

"So Luther, we meet again," Jonas stated, his noble jaw set in a manly line.

Luther smiled evilly. "It's good to see you again, Jonas, or should I say JUDAS," his voice purred, a sinister expression upon his visage.

"Jonas, what on earth is he talking about?" Sam interjected.

"Pipe down you cow. I mean, I'll explain later, lovemuffin," Jonas said, not taking his eyes off Luther.

"You want me to take this mook out?" queried one of Luthor's hired goons.

"Nooooooo!!!!," Cariandria cried. "You mustn't harm a single greasy hair on his oddly shaped head," she declaimed. 

The goon ignored her, reaching for his gun, he said "prepare to meet your maker, you incompetent, lying, cowardly, thieving traitor".

With the speed of a cheetah, the fierce protectiveness of a mother tiger but yet with the delicate grace of a gazelle, Cariandria threw herself in front of the goon's gun. A shot rang out. Suddenly, she fell to the ground.

Jonas screamed like a little girl. She couldn't be dead, she just couldn't. Finally, he had found someone worthy of his uniqueness, only to lose her. Oh the irony! 

Behind him, Sam quietly slipped the small ladies pistol, into her bodice. Take my place willya! Wormhole expert my Aunt Fanny! the virago thought gleefully. As for you, Smarmy McTeeth, just wait til we get back to Colorado Springs! I'll make you pay for even THINKING about dumping me for some botoxed, bewigged, nose-jobbed, fake-boobed tramp! I can use Goa'uld torture devices you know, and somehow I don't think anyone will stop me.

Unaware of his ladylove's actions, Jonas commenced to tear his hair, rip his clothes, beat his breast, all the while sobbing hysterically. Luther and company beat a hasty retreat.

The day of the funeral arrived, a perfect rosy-fingered dawn mocking the universal grief and bereavement. Never had there been a funeral like this, crowned heads, world leaders, the cream of the artistic and scientific world all gathered to pay their respects to the one whose passing had left a yawning, gaping, emptiness in all of their lives. Not only were the rich, famous and swanky represented, Cariandria had had the common touch, legions of little people lined the way to the cemetery, lining the road with rose-petals in a gesture of respect. Spiritual leaders of every religion vied to produce a fitting eulogy. Hospitals reported that every newborn infant girl was named 'Cariandria' in her honor. Indeed, it would be no exaggeration to say that the universe itself mourned the passing of such a fair flower.

Alone in the whirling maelstrom of bereavement, one lonely figure stood, his grief surpassing all others. "I vow, by all that is holy, I WILL NOT allow your death to go unavenged".

Meanwhile, Teal'c, Jack and Daniel, rested up, preparing themselves for Wrestlemania Two - Jello Boogaloo.

The End 


End file.
